


It's Not Unusual

by songofsunset



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Gen, I blame my sister, I'm not entirely sure how this happened, also spiderverse was aMAZING YES HELLO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofsunset/pseuds/songofsunset
Summary: Miles is doing his homework in an all-night diner when a certain man walks in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in some ambiguous future date. High School? College? Who knows, not me!!!
> 
> Please know that I heard the asscreed fwoooooosh jumping noise in my head whenever spiderverse Did The Thing and my sister encouraged and enabled me lol

The 24-hour-diner is quiet this late at night, brightly lit against the orange glow of the city humming along outside. Every surface in the place feels faintly sticky with decades of syrup and questionable 3 am life decisions- this makes it feel homey, probably. Or bleak, depending on how you're feeling. 

Tonight, Miles Morales is leaning towards bleak. 

Miles groans, and leans his forehead onto the pile of papers covering the dubiously sticky table in front of him. Probably he'll manage to peel them all off. Eventually.

Finals suck ass. 

And it's not like he can get a little extra time for his homework by taking a break from his... extracurriculars. No, not at all. Spiderman is a come rain or shine or villainous plot sort of thing. School assignments don't even rate. 

Miles snorts. "Oh yeah, I'll just send out a memo to all the villains to please take two weeks off so I can finish all my essays, please and thank you. That'll go _great._ " Miles blinks. "Okay actually, I could probably text Eddie and-"

The bell on the door jingles, and Miles' spidey-sense goes off and he whips around in his booth to see the door and- oh. Okay. That's- that's weird, that's definitely weird. 

It's a brown-haired guy in a grungy white hoodie, and he's so unremarkable it's almost itself remarkable. And he has a Vibe. It's not a spiderman sort of vibe, not exactly. Miles knows pretty darn well how that one feels. But it's not-not that sort of vibe either. 

At least it's not hostile. 

Miles glances down at his homework, then up at the man, who has sized up the cafe and has moved to the counter to talk with the cashier- and Miles sighs. 

One more problem. He'll finish one more homework problem, and then go see what's up with that guy. 

Miles is halfway through that problem when the man slides into the other side of the booth, holding a cup of coffee. 

Miles looks up and raises an eyebrow. 

The man looks back. 

"Can I help you?" Miles asks. 

The man shrugs, eyeing the paper-covered table and making the visible decision not to set his mug down on top of Miles' work. Miles appreciates this, but shifts some of his calculus out of the way anyways. 

The man raises his own eyebrows, then puts his cup down in the small gap that has been created. 

A car honks loudly outside. Someone jogs past the window, talking loudly on their cell phone. The city hums with life even at this hour. 

"So?" Miles asks, finally, caving to his curiosity. "You need something?"

The man shrugs. "I'm not sure yet. Do _you_ need something, maybe?"

Miles glances down at the notebook he's scribbling in. "You uh- you any good with theoretical calculus? Or the ethics of non-traditional research methodologies?"

The man squints down at the table like he's reevaluating the papers entirely. "Jesus, really? What are they feeding you kids these days?" 

Miles gestures at the laminated menus over in their rack. "Three eggs and side of bacon for 2.50?"

"Touché."

Miles works his way through another half equation while the man sips his coffee. Neatly, Miles notes, clearly making sure not to spill any on Miles's papers. 

"Calculus and ethics and... is that neurobiology? They're really laying it on you, huh." 

Miles shrugs. "It's what happens when you're studying the physics of interdimensional transference."

The man narrows his eyes. 

"A lotta big companies tied up in that."

"Yeah," says Miles, "And most of them are shady as hell. Someone's gotta keep an eye on what they're up to, and it might as well be me."

"Hmm," the man says, but he sounds almost approving. Miles glances up at him. The man shrugs. "Sounds like a tough job."

Miles gives a wry smile. "I've had harder." 

The man takes a sip of his coffee.

"Don't underestimate the job. Or the companies."

He sounds like he's talking from some sort of personal experience, but Miles has all sorts of experience of his own, and a lot of it. He looks the man in the eye, voice firm. "Don't underestimate _me_."

The man nods, accepting this. "They're gonna try to fool you. Don't let them. And, if you need any help, with research, or with anything a little more... nontraditional-" He looks at Miles and Miles thinks suddenly of the mask tucked away his his backpack. This man shouldn't know about it, should have no idea, and yet... "Ask around the area for a Desmond Miles," the man says. "I'll find you pretty quick."

Miles is wondering if this man knows about him, if this why his spider sense was acting up earlier- and then the name processes. 

"Okay no-Miles? Seriously? Is that like, actually your name? Or did you just look at my essay draft for ideas while making up a fake one?"

The man- Desmond- looks down at the table for a moment- and then grins, wide and genuine. "Miles Morales, huh? Well. Nice name."

Miles does his best to look unimpressed, makes a show of turning his attention back to his homework. "I'm not sure I want to trust a guy who might have just invented his own name by looking at random words like he's on a cartoon or something." Miles has seen cartoons in living detail. This man isn't suited for it. 

"Well," the man says, finishing his coffee in one long pull and then putting his empty cup back on the table in the space Miles had made for it. "It's my actual name, for once. Believe me, or don't, but sometimes you just have to... take a leap of faith." 

And then he strides away, door jingling shut behind him almost before Miles can scramble to his feet and dash after him, papers flying everywhere- 

But when Miles gets out the door only a moment later, standing in the glow of the diner windows, looking around at the orange-lit city around him... the man is already gone. 

"Huh," Miles says, as the city murmurs around him. 

Then he goes back inside and finishes his homework.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A leap of faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's all I got, these were the scenes in my head I wanted to get down. 
> 
> Wish I could do a more comprehensive plot, I can see a lot of potential, but that's never really been my thing. Anyone else wants to pick up this crossover bunny, tho, they're welcome to. 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed :)

Pigeons flutter away as Miles and Desmond stand at the edge of the roof together, panting slightly, the city laid out bright and pulsing before them. 

Behind them, the Abstergo goons are scrambling onto the rooftop. 

Miles turns to face the goons, feet right back against the edge of the roof, the wind whistling past Miles' bodysuit, pulling at Desmond's hood, the ground far and grey below them. 

"Well kid," Desmond says, as the goons round on them, leveling their guns, "You ready for that leap of faith?"

Miles grins, spreading his arms wide and cocky, baring the spider on his chest to their pursuers like a taunt. 

"Let's go." 

And, laughing, he lets himself fall backwards off the building with all the confidence of someone who has learned to fly by always missing the ground. 

Desmond follows a heartbeat later, arms spread wide, the ground hurtling up towards him like an old friend- and, when Miles sends out a web, catching himself, transforming his fall into flight, Desmond hurtles right on past him, speed only building. 

Miles has half a second to realize that no, Desmond does not seem to have any sort of convenient flying/swinging apparatus and that yes, he IS about to hit the ground after a jump of several stories- and then Desmond twists in midair, and is landing on his back in an improbably convenient pile of trash bags that just _magically_ doesn't seem to contain glass bottles, or furniture, or _tetanus_.

"DUDE," Miles says, dropping rapidly down towards Desmond. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO LIKE, THWIP OR PARAGLIDE OR SOMETHING, ARE YOU OKAY??"

Desmond is already moving, rolling out of the trash pile and brushing himself off. He makes a face. The trash might have been soft, but it definitely wasn't fragrant, and Miles suddenly understands why his hoodie is so darn grungy all the time. 

"You've got some sort of- wrist grapple?" Desmond says, eyeing the route Miles took down, then leading them down an alley where their rooftop pursuers can't see them. "I can't say I've seen one of those before." 

"It's a web shooter." Miles says, trotting after Desmond, leading him around a corner he knows they can cut through some construction and confuse their trail, "I've got this whole-" he gestures vaguely towards his torso, then takes a moment to scale the chain link fence into the construction site. "-this spider theme going on. It's a whole Thing. Do you always jump 12 stories and plan to land on the ground???"

Desmond shrugs, clearing the fence in two smooth motions, then hitting the ground in a silent roll that takes him right back up to his feet. "Yeah? That's how everyone I know of has done it. It's kind of a whole... Thing." 

Miles takes a moment to stare at the sky and wonder what has become of his life. 

"And you're. Fine with that," Miles says, as they make their way through dirt and concrete and scaffolding. 

"There's usually something there to break my fall. I try not to jump unless it seems like there's gonna be."

"You _try_ not to??? What happens when- okay, no, nevermind actually, I don't get paid enough for this-"

"You get paid for vigilante activities?" Desmond seems genuinely curious as they round the last of the scaffolding and merge back into the foot-traffic of the sidewalk. 

Miles scowls, knowing his mask won't show it, and waves back at anyone who gives him a hello. "Only in free hot dogs and that's exactly my point." 

"Hmm. Maybe I should try it sometime."

Miles has a brief vision of dealing with Desmond-induced mayhem every day, instead of just whenever he was researching shady corporations, and suddenly has sympathy for how his dad felt dealing with Spiderman. 

"Yeah, no offense, but please don't."

Desmond shrugs, then glances up at the nearest rooftop. "Think we've lost them?"

"For now." Miles responds, eyeing the crowd around them warily. 

"Good enough," says Desmond. "Lay low, and I'll meet you Friday. We can go after their research department." 

Suppressing the urge to groan, Miles nods. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good." 

And then Desmond takes a quick half step, and is hoisting himself up the side of the building almost as fast as Miles could manage it. Within moments he is up above the edge of the roof and out of sight. Someone on the sidewalks mutters something about how the girl that guy is after must be _really_ beautiful.

Miles shakes his head, then heads out the other direction. It seems like a good time to visit one of his friendly neighborhood hotdog vendors.


End file.
